True
by banzai blue
Summary: Trowa’s dying vignette. PG-13 for language, death themes, violence-y stuff, and shounen-ai references (3+4) …


pairings: nothing but the wanton feeling of 3+4

disclaimer: do I look like a rich Japanese hotshot to you? didn't think so.

timeline: whenever, but it'd have to be sometime after _endless waltz_, like all my fics. heh.

note: First paragraph in quotes from Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet._ The last thing Trowa thinks is a snippet from _Hamlet_, one of my personal favorite quotes and that play is bursting with them.

summary: Trowa's dying vignette, wishing he could see Quatre once again before his time runs out. PG-13 for language, death themes, uhm I guess violency war stuff, and shounen-ai references … But be careful!! I love to make the quiet ones suffer! Though I would _never_ make Trowa actually die in this way, I just suddenly craved to sink my teeth into a character's pitiful angst like a tiger into tardy prey. Touché, my love, touché!__

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**_True_**__

_"True, I talk of dreams;_

_Which are the children of an idle brain,_

_Begot of nothing but vain fantasy;_

_Which is as thin of substance as the air,_

_And more inconstant than the wind..."_

The sun is low now, Quatre. Are you watching it? Perhaps from a window afar you stand, your arms folded, thoughts wandering above the blue sky and among the stars. And from there do you see the golden sun? I observe too, you know. But you do not know of the blood that licks up from the gash in my side and seeps into the ashen earth.

I suppose I should thank you. I'd speak my gratitude for your company with me aloud. But my breath it weak and coppery, and no words from my reddened tongue could serve your pure soul honor. The sky will swallow my words and shower them down upon all the earth, but you will not hear them. You think nothing of the rain, do you, my love?

            I should've paid more attention! They tricked me. They appeared out of nowhere when I finally heard the slapdash spits of gunfire, suddenly warm. The mountains, the hills, behind the Heavyarms. How did it happen? That's no excuse. I'm better then that. I'm among the very best. I should've well seen their ruse ahead of time. I do not let some small feint of shoddy soldier's actions leave me for dead.  

Look—already I speak in past tense. I know there will be no tomorrow for me. The sun will greet the world, alive, and I too, but my dormant remains will not be able to experience its garish shine. 

Would you cry for me? Will you cry when you learn of my untimely death? Oh, how unfortunate he was, they'll say. So quiet and reserved, and yet he was the first of five to die. How strong, yes, how very strong he seemed. And I know, dearest Quatre, that I would never have been able to shine as brightly as you do. I am merely a scar of another war's casualty. I am your shadow. I will follow you…clinging like a child tearing at the heals of his mother, hoping not to get lost in the winding and crowded streets of another slummed city on a distant colony.

Will they bury me? Oh Lord, what will they put on the bitter tomb that could possibly illustrate me? 'We knew him well'? I chuckle, and it hurts my chest. There is no epitaph I need. I don't want one. Trowa Barton is not my name, and this is neither his loss nor mine. I am dying a stranger's death. I'd like a gray, flat, and hard piece of cold slab that reads nothing. Yes, that describes me well. 

If I have a grave, will you be at my funeral? Will I feel your hoary pearls of sorrow falling upon me? Do not be humiliated my love. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Was it fear I felt that night, as hollow as the ground we sat upon? Was it embarrassment I felt as the heat of blood rushing to my cheeks was silenced by night's breezes and we lay, and I gently rocked you asleep in my arms. I certainly felt something. When I tried to single out just one pin-sized milky white star from the velvet sky, my eyes burned, and I felt emptiness yet again. Dear love, did you feel my tender kiss upon your forehead? Or did you only feel my tears? You must've felt either, for your jade-colored eyes opened to me, and in the desolate embrace of night, you smiled your humblest. And like a fool I believed that you'd miss me if I ever were to leave, I loved you.

Ah. I love you. Those words are so light to hear, but would you know of the throbbing I'd abide if I ever spoke them to you? But you're not here to heed them, love. Now the hot metal juts out and reaches for my shoulders, and you are not here to whisper sweet nothings into my wanton ears. 

I have never pictured my death. I have never listened to the peace of it. Though, even if I found the time to, I would not like to imagine myself lying in a warm, crimson puddle, uselessly trying to cover an open wound, thinking of the one person whom I had wished upon to never leave me. And now, I leave you. But will you cry? Will you care?

I smile too, my tongue stinging against the fresh air. I smile because I will never know if you cry or not. Oh how I wish the blistering metal would have broken my flesh more quickly and didn't leave me handicapped here under dripping oil and twisting scraps of what used to be apart of Heavyarms. For I am alive and regretting every decision I've ever made, especially this morning. I left you wide-eyed once again and trembling. You had begged me to not take this dumb chance. I thought I was lucky, I thought…you'd always be there. What a damn perfect chance I had to comfort you and tell you everything you be fine. For I said that, but gave you nothing above a distant glance. And now you are somewhere thinking I am indeed alive and well, and perhaps you are waiting for me to return back. Was that a shuddering sigh escaping my lips? And are these tears? Oh comforting tears. There's a certain strange kindness I feel as you roll down my face in heavy drops and over my mouth. I can feel your salty taste on my lips, barely, or is that my blood? You obscure my vision for a moment, but forcefully I blinked you away. You drop into oblivion, and I see again.

W-where has the sun gone? Oh, it was there a minute ago…it warmed my face. Now it leaves nothing but orange and pink wisps of clouds low on the horizon and a cold wind to cool my wet eyes. Why do I regret being alone now? Why now? Has death's hour managed to pull me from my desolation and led me hand-in-hand to lament tears? But I still love the feeling of being able to belong of no one. How much love does hurt, and how sweetly the wind kisses my virgin lips. May I rest my head upon your chest again? Will I be able to listen to your stifled heartbeat? Gentle, yours sings, and slow does mine still try to hold on. I think of you standing over me, assuring my life tomorrow, assuring the sun will rise for me. And I'd love believing your word, as I lay my head further into the stained dirt that would've been your shoulder…if you were here with me. 

W-was that a raindrop I felt on my forehead? Are they crying already? No, Trowa, you fool. How fickle and blinded by pity you are, and quick you are to try and assume they'll miss you. It was only the blood from your soaked hands. You were reaching for the heaven. Come, put a hand on your gash again. There. I feel the warm ooze of my blood dribbling in between my fingers.  

Funny. I should've listened to Heero more closely when he said dying hurts like hell. He's right, God knows. But there are different pains I feel. The pain from my dripping wide gash does not hurt me. The pain my heart feels is much more agonizing then the split-second fire I saw before my eyes. But nothing is more unbearable then the moment I realized I was never going to see you again. There is an insufferable hunger to kiss you, so you could taste my metallic lips and know of this hurt I feel for you.

Night is encroaching hastily, and finally I can perceive some stars poking out of the cobalt sky. They pierce my eyes with the same stitch my chest feels when I recognize my love for you. Where are you, little one? Did you just feel a jolt? Is it a sudden quiver of chill up your spine? Does your heart suffer my death? Oh, it must! Yes, your delicate space heart must sense my silent pain and you know! You cry! I do not want you to pain for me, just for you to be acquainted with the pain I bore for you. It was the burden of my soul for what seemed like unendurable ages. And now my cross is burning, and my blood begins to dry. In death you can take away my cross Quatre, and can clean my wounds with your tears. So does your heart feel me? Will you throw down my cross and clear away my blood?

Please feel it, Quatre. Please listen to your what your heart tells you. Do not deny my death and my love.

Ah… here comes rain. It drizzles from invisible clouds opening up in the ebony sky, disrupted from perfection every now and then with specks of silver. The tiny droplets, so much like tears, they blend with my blood and smooth it out over my bruised skin. The heavens have split for me, and now weep forth like my side did. So, has Heaven already heard my unspoken mourning? Is it ready to harbor my soul? What sort of console and asylum can I expect or look forward to? Does Heaven have any room left for an abandoned soldier? I have a face, but no name… Will they take me? 

Now I don't want to die. I don't want to meander pointlessly and find there is no light for a murderer… No light for me. That God, if there is a God, will rebuke me and let my scars reopen in despondency. Without direction, without purpose – no, I can't allow myself to amble the earth in Quatre's shadow, forever wondering why the angels wouldn't allow me to be away from mine so I wouldn't hurt anymore. What angel would allow me to suffer more then he, my love? Quatre. My only light. My only angel. He is my true happy ending. I want to fly to you as I take my last breath and be held tightly in your arms. I'll be safe. I'll never have to dream again, for the star has granted its fatality their one and only wish, and that was to forever be with you. 

I never wanted love to hurt this much. And when I died, I'm sure I would've never wanted to think of one person this much. If I had only told you my gut feeling, I wouldn't be in this literal mess of my blood and my gundam. Oh, Heavyarms. I have not forgotten you. I'd turn to give you one final look but I think I've wrenched my neck somehow. But no worry, I can see you perfectly in my mind. In my mind, where all things happen, you are there. My other friend, you stand triumphantly against a clear blue sky. And I jump down from you… alive and happy, even smiling. And, standing on a hill of lemon yellow flowers and waxy green grass, I see beautiful cities hugging the mossy mountains. Mm, the overwhelming awe of a warless colony treats my soul like a dizzy drug. I inhale the sweet, unpolluted air. It fills my lungs and the clean, crisp scent seems to purify my entire soul. Every dreadful memory escapes me, and every blissful one rejuvenates me and lifts my spirits to the sky where no jet or weapon dare cross.

And you. You are there Quatre, my angel. You hug me from behind, inhaling the same ideal scene. I turn, feigning surprise to see your cherubic face. You kiss me. The kisses are as if we have been lovers for a long time. I don't hold back. I love you, I say. And you return it to me, jade eyes smiling. We lightly fall to the soft grass and I let your tired head fall against my chest. No more war, my angel. There is no war to fight, no death to fear, no destruction to rebuild, and no evil to prevent. This is my perfect idea of what Heaven should be for us. All of the gundam and MS pilots, the soldiers, and us too. Everyone can enjoy it, everyone who ever fought for the peace, no matter what side they were on. They should be able to enjoy the peace they never lived to see! 

But only in my dreams. And the rain sympathetically kisses my eyelids, for you are not here with me. But somewhere, listening to the rain, you can feel your heart above it all. And you hear that too, and wonder why it's crying.

Where I go I hope they will let me wander idly. If I could wade through those eternal clouds I saw up high, though products of my fruitless reminiscing, I would be fine, because those heavens where made of you. True then, my love for you was fruitless. All my thoughts and blushes and hiding from you and thinking that maybe, someday I'd show you. But no, the blood thickens, and I am too late. And here I lie helpless, patiently waiting for the darkness that filled my chest to shut my eyes and leave me but as still and quiet as I ever was when alive. And with these tears I will leave this forsaken humankind, crumbling and burning from man's every decision and uttered word. And the dreams that were of you will hang forever near your grace, for I will be with the aftermath sun you stare at from a far window. For dreams, my love, will never die.

Ah, to die… to sleep… to sleep perchance to dream…

by Cayt


End file.
